Elissa averted her gaze, refusing to meet Rowan’s intense stare. She drew a long breath, willing herself to soundposed. “I’m waiting for Frank.”

    “Wait all you want,” Rowan replied without even a hint of subtlety, his tone blunt and direct. “Just don’t forget what’s written in our agreement.”

    Elissa nearly cked out on the spot.

    Seizing a moment when the housekeeper wasn’t looking, she shot Rowan a fierce re.

    Rowan, knowing she couldn’t withstand much teasing, just shoved one hand into his pocket and strode off toward the staircase, his long legs making quick work of the distance.

    He paused at the top of the stairs, then turned, as if suddenly remembering something important. “Oh, right. Come up here–I’ve got something for you.”

    Elissa knew from experience that once Rowan set his mind on

    something, there was no point arguing. The more she resisted, the more suspicious it would look. So she stood tall, feigning nonchnce, and followed him upstairs.

    Though Rowan had moved out, nobody had dared touch his suite all these years. Even the family matriarch kept a room for him in her own wing, just in case anyone talked.

    He led her straight into his old room without a second thought.

    “What is it?” she demanded.

    “Why are you waiting for Frank?” he shot back.

    The moment she crossed the threshold, Rowan pressed her up against the idoor/i. Both spoke at once, their words colliding in the charged air. Their eyes met, nejther backing down.

    When he said nothing further, Elissa knew she’d have to answer first. She

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    16:49

    huffed impatiently. “Go ask your grandmother if you want ito /iknow.i” /i

    There was no way she could tell him the truth. Besides, the olddy would never tell him either. If Rowan wanted to argue, he’d have to take it up with her.

    Checking the time, Elissa guessed Frank would be arriving any minute. Rowan still wasn’t talking, so she pressed, “Well? What exactly did you want to give me?”

    As soon as the words left her mouth, footsteps echoed from downstairs.

    Frank must be here.

    Rowan watched the anxious expression flicker across her face, then gave a small, crooked smile. “Funny. When Frank keeps secrets, you never ilook /i

    this nervous.”

    He was, of course, talking about Frank.

    Elissa sighed. This wasn’t even close to the same thing. She wasn’t worried about Frank discovering anything–she was terrified the olddy would see through her and realize she was divorced. Then she’d be forced to marry that fourth son of the Crest family, just as the matriarch

    wanted.

    Deep down, Elissa had always known divorce wasn’t her best option. But thatst shred of pride wouldn’t let her cling to Frank’s influence, not after everything that had happened.

    She pressed her lips together, half truthful, half evasive. “I’m not nervous–I just don’t want your grandmother finding out that Frank and I aren’t exactly a happy couple.”

    Rowan’s eyes darkened. “And then she’d make things difficult for you?”

    Elissa nodded, She wasn’t surprised he saw right through her; Rowan was nobody’s fool.

    But then, his rich, cool voice cut through the silence. “Did it ever ur to you that you have better options?”

    16:49)

    Chapter b233 /b

    The look on his sharply handsome face practically screamed, *I am the

    best option you’ve got.*

    Elissa’s brows drew together. “You mean… you?”

    “Why not?” Rowan shrugged, then started listing the pros and cons as if this were a business deal. “Compared to Frank, the olddy’s probably more wary of me.”

    You’re being modest, Elissa nearly blurted. It wasn’t “probably“-the matriarch was definitely more afraid of him.

    She stared at him in disbelief. “So you want me to tell your grandmother I’m your mistress?” She wasn’t insane. In families like theirs, every

    official wife hated and feared that kind of scandal. The matriarch already disliked her if she found out Elissa was involved with her own grandson,

    she’d be lucky to survive the week.

    Knock, knock.

    She’d barely finished speaking when someone rapped on the door.

    Outside, she could just make out Butler Murphy’s voice, talking to Frank. “Miss Elissa went upstairs with Mr. Rowan. They should be in this room.” Rowan didn’t seem bothered at all. He actually stepped closer, caging her in. “What’s wrong? Am I not good enough for you?”

    This isn’t about whether you’re good enough, she wanted to shout. It’s about whether I want to live.

    “Elissa, are iyou /iin there? I’ming in,” Frank’s voice called through the door, apanied by another round of knocking.

    Panic rising, Elissa lunged for the door, desperate to escape.

    But Rowan blocked her path, his voice ice–cold. “Don’t want your present?”

    She spun around, about to retort, when she saw him pull something from his pocket–a chocte bar, old–fashioned and farmiliar. It was the kind

    b16:49 /b

    she’d adored as a child, a ssic brand you couldn’t find in stores or

    online anymore. She had no idea how he’d managed to get his hands on olliit. /li/ol